The Sword in the Stone
by YoungConductor
Summary: The sword that a desperate Jaune pulled out of the stone was supposed to be a fake, a prop used to honor a long-dead king that was supposedly from his hometown. However, it turns out to be more than that: a sacred torch passed down from generation to generation of noble guardians. Armed with a legend, Jaune will live out his dream of becoming a true huntsman. *inspired by BNHA*
1. Chapter 1

**I'm sorry that this isn't a chapter of Doom Driven but this story idea has been driving me crazy for a while and I finally decided to write it after rewatching My Hero Academia.**

**You can expect the next chapter of Doom Driven to come out by Sunday.**

**I don't own RWBY.**

**Chapter 1:** The Mark of a True Hero

* * *

Mr. Loden watched as his Kindergarten class left their seats one-after-one and toddled their way over to him, forming a semi-circle made up of little kids sitting cross-legged and staring up at their teacher. He made sure to send a stern glare at little Doug who was pulling on Gwny's hair in an attempt to get her attention. It would be something to laugh about later with the other teachers of Aballo's preschool but his student's attempts at getting the attention of his crush would only escalate and lead to further disruption. The last of the children scurried over from their writing activities to join the circle causing a swell of pride to surge through him; while the town wasn't as wealthy as others, it still could pride itself on providing its children an ample education.

"So..." Loden began, watching in amusement as his students seemed to physically latch onto his words "Who wants to hear about King Oran?"

The five year olds let out a rousing cheer causing him to hide a wince as he pulled a book on his town's pride and joy from the shelf besides him. While dozens of other towns in the Valean Frontier may claim, in an attempt to drive up tourism, that the last king of Vale was born within their walls, Aballo was the only one that actually had proof and recognition from the Royal Valean Historical Society. Naturally, that became a huge part of the town's identity and its school board made sure that its educators found a way to work the last royal into their curriculum in order to make their local history seem more appealing.

"Where did we leave off last time?" he fished, trying to see if his students paid attention in class.

Doug's hand shot up confidently to which the teacher simply nodded to him "We left off when Oran smashed the traitors!" the young dog faunus exclaimed energetically.

'_A bit simplistic but..._' "Very good, Doug!" said Loden happily causing the child to beam with pride "Now can anyone explain why the traitors fought King Oran?"

The children looked more uncertain at that question, looking amongst themselves for someone to answer the question. The teacher pursed his lips, it was only natural that the energetic rascals would only pay attention to the most action-packed parts of their hero's tale. He turned his head and saw a small hand rise hesitantly from the small crowd.

"Yes, Jaune?" Loden called out gingerly, gently encouraging the young orphan to answer the question.

The boy's small frame became even smaller as every head in the room turned towards him and his blue eyes were fixed on the alphabet rug as he raised his voice, "It's because he was il-illegiti-illegitimate. Um, the lords didn't like him because he wasn't the son of the king and queen, only the king. They wanted someone else to be the king."

"Excellent, Jaune! Someone's been doing some reading of their own!" he exclaimed, causing the boy to offer him a small smile before retreating in on himself at the sight of his classmates staring at him. Loden frowned thoughtfully at the reaction, sympathizing with the boy who was practically all by himself; no relatives and no friends, only the orphanage's matron.

That made him wonder where he acquired such knowledge as the exact nature of the king's bastardy wasn't covered in class, only that he had risen from humble origins. Loden made a note to himself to further encourage Jaune in his studies.

The young teacher took a seat on the fine wooden chair made by one of Aballo's artisans, taking a moment to sit in a more comfortable position before showing the book off to the class while reading from the pages.

"Page seventeen..." he muttered to himself whilst flipping through the colorful pages of _The Warrior King: Oran_, "Here we are. Oran's victories over the traitorous lords did not come without a price: his childhood attendant and first love, Phoenix the Red, had died during the war. The green prince returned to Vale and became a green king but he had lost his spirit with the loss of his friend and love."

Loden paused as the girls and some of the boys cooed sadly at the images on the book: a handsome young man with shoulder length green hair and almond-shaped green eyes stood over the pristine corpse of a woman with long red hair and a headband with golden feathers poking out of it. While he imagined the corpse was much more gruesome in real life, the book instead made it look like she was taking a nice, peaceful nap.

"When he heard that negotiations had failed between Vale and Mantle and Mistral and that he would have to lead his people in a war against two kingdoms, he lost all hope. After all, if he couldn't protect his best friend, how could he protect the people of his kingdom? That's when he was approached by the Great Inquisitor, Osman."

He flipped the page, revealing a sharply dressed man in purple and gold with a neatly combed haircut and a moustache-and-beard combo. He entered the humble throne room armed with a staff in one hand and a lamp in the other; something was also bundled up on his back. The next page showed him kneeling gracefully before the king who was slouching on his throne, gazing at the newcomer with disinterest.

"The guards stared at the newcomer with suspicion but allowed him to kneel before their hopeless king. He said: 'My king, I come bearing gifts and a reminder' as he presented a mysterious bundle to Oran. The king leaned forward in interest, his attention caught by the wizard's movements as he unfurled the bundle revealing a simple, humble sword. 'My king, I present to you Crocea Mors.' Oran, depressed, responded negatively, asking if the inquisitor was actually a jester sent to entertain him. 'My king, all I ask is that you wield it. If you are truly worthy of becoming the ultimate protector of your people, Crocea Mors will bring you untold power.'"

He paused once more, listening with a smile as the class ooh'd and ah'd.

"Oran's guards advanced on the visitor for daring to question their king but he stopped them and waved them off, his curiosity piqued. He took the sword from Osman's kneeling form and was immediately shocked by the onset of power coming from the plain-looking sword, his form alight with his newly unlocked aura. The guards and the courtiers all stopped what they were doing and knelt before Oran's magnificent new form."

The class gazed in amazement at the vibrant colors on the page: the previously slouching king stood up from his throne, his back straight and his arm holding up the bright sword as if it was a bright torch or beacon illuminating the room. The drawing showed multiple forms, including Osman's, kneeling before the noble figure from which a bright green light emanated.

"Annnnd, that's all the time we have for today." Loden said cheerfully as multiple groans resounded throughout the room, coinciding with the shrill sound of the school bell. "Have a nice day, you hear? Get home safe!"

Mr. Loden watched with a satisfied smile and his hands on his hips as the room was vacated by the students, most rushing to play while there was still daylight. As he slid the book in between two others on the shelf he noticed that someone was still in the room with him. He turned around and saw Jaune fidgeting, waiting awkwardly for his teacher to finish whatever he was doing.

"How can I help you, Jaune?" he asked politely, kneeling so that he wouldn't be talking down to his student.

"I was wondering..." he began shyly, gripping the straps of his messenger bag tightly.

"What is it?" Loden asked gently, his tone soothing.

Jaune looked up, "I was wondering if the sword in the stone is actually real."

The teacher sighed, thinking of the monument dedicated to King Oran, "Now where did you hear that?"

"I asked some grown-ups about the sword and they said that it was a fake, that the real one was back in Vale... They said I was stupid for thinking that Oran's blade would actually be here." he said quietly, staring back down at his feet.

"Unfortunately, they are right about the sword." said the teacher with a sigh, "The sword that's here is just a part of the monument, tons of people have tried to pull it out before, myself included, but it's just stuck in that old stone. The real one was probably buried with the king so that no one else could get their hands on it."

"Oh..." said the boy in disappointment.

"What? Were you going to try and pull it out?" Loden asked in amusement, chuckling slightly as Jaune looked away in embarrassment, his round cheeks red, "Well you don't need a fancy sword like Crocea Mors to be a great huntsman, Jaune. If you keep studying as hard as you do, you'll be at Beacon, slaying Grimm in no time!"

The teacher was startled as Jaune looked up at him and offered him a brilliant smile before rushing out the room.

'_That's the happiest I've ever seen him._' thought Loden happily, scratching his head.

* * *

Jaune felt a pair of hands grip his shirt as soon as he exited the school. He squirmed restlessly until he was able to turn and see his attacker. Doug Hemlock looked down at him with an imperious grin, his sharp canines jutting out prominently as his ears twitched in excitement. Two of his lackeys, Daisy and Silver, stood beside him, cracking their knuckles menacingly with frightening grins marring their young faces. Jaune let out a frightened squeak and squirmed even more in a futile attempt to escape his bully's grip.

"Hey now what's the big deal, Jauney Boy? We're friends aren't we?" asked Doug sarcastically as he shifted his grip so that he had his arm wrapped around the smaller boy's shoulders.

"Leave me alone, Doug. I just wanna go home." said the Arc despondently as he let the larger boy drag him to a spot where they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Come on now, you know I can't let you off the hook that easily. Not after you showed me up in front of Gwyn." he whispered menacingly in the other boy's ears.

"I-I couldn't help it, y-you made it too easy." stuttered Jaune causing the party to stop in it's tracks, he turned his head and whimpered at the angry look on the dog faunus's face.

"Oh man, you're going to regret that Jauney Boy." he growled as he began dragging the blond in earnest to a more secluded destination.

They stopped by the gates to the nice park located near the school before Doug turned to his stooges, "Stand by the gates, make sure no one stops me."

Daisy and Silver simply grinned menacingly before pulling out a deck of cards setting up a game nonchalantly by the rusted iron gates.

"You and me are gonna have a long talk..." said Doug as he pushed Jaune further down the path into the park.

Jaune turned around suddenly, hoping to surprise his foe but he was sent flying back onto his butt when Doug simply shoved him with a cruel laugh.

"You think you're better than me? Huh?" asked the dog faunus as he loomed menacingly over the young Arc.

'_So_ _cliché!_' thought Jaune, his eyes widened in fear as he scrambled in backwards.

"So now you're running away!" the bigger boy laughed, "And you think you can become a huntsman! What a joke..."

Jaune stopped in his tracks as heard Doug's words.

"You come out of nowhere and you show me up! Constantly! Just some no-name, little boy who thinks that he's better than someone who actually deserves to be a huntsman!"

"What- what are you talking about?" asked the Arc in disbelief, getting back up to his feet.

"Look at you! You're the smallest person in our entire grade! You show up a year ago and everyone just starts acting like you're the center of the world! Everything was fine before you got here... just give up and get out of my way." yelled Doug in frustration.

An awkward silence enveloped the pair as the dog faunus breathed heavily and attempted to get his temper under control. Behind him, Jaune could see Silver and Daisy looking back at the pair curiously before going back to whatever card game they were playing. He stared down at his feet, listening to the rustling of the leaves as a breeze blew through the trees. He clenched his fists and looked up, putting on his best game face.

"I'll never give up on becoming a huntsman!" shouted Jaune, surprising himself and causing Doug to jump slightly, "Not after how Mr. Loden said I could become a huntsman!"

To his surprise, his bully actually started laughing, doubling over as he clutched his sides.

"Bwahahaha! You- you actually think he meant that?" he shouted in between bouts of hysterical laughter "He only said that to make you feel better, you dope!"

"What?" asked Jaune faintly.

"Jeez, you think these people actually care about you? Man, you're actually pretty stupid. He's just worried widdle orphan Jaune would run away if he said something else." he said miming tears "Get real, Jauney Boy."

The last Arc sniffled as the harsh words hit him like a truck. Hot tears poured down his face like a waterfall as he aggressively rubbed at them trying in vain to make them to disappear before Doug could see them and become even meaner.

"Aw man, you're actually crying!" said the bully, beginning to laugh again.

"Shut up!" shouted Jaune, his voice cracking, "I'll become a huntsman! I'll be a hero like King Oran no matter what anyone says!"

"You know Jauney Boy, I'm getting tired of this." Doug cracked his knuckles and bared his fangs, "It's time I taught you a lesson. For good."

"You guys are having a crazy-deep conversation for a pair of kindergartners." a feminine, _adult _voice called out from further down the path.

Jaune turned and saw a cloaked figure walking towards them casually, their footsteps not making a sound as they approached the duo. Jaune's eyes were drawn downwards to the sword that poked out of the cloak; the cogs on its hilt indicated that it was one of those fancy mechashift swords as opposed to a simple one like Crocea Mors. Given her choice of weapon and her gaudy clothing she was probably a huntress. Memories of his own parents flooded his head causing him to avert his eyes sadly.

'_What's a huntress doing here?_'

She stopped next to the young Arc, laying a small hand on his shoulder.

"Fighting isn't good, 'kay?" she said gently but with a hint of steel, sending a stern expression Doug's way, "Now why don't you run along to your parents?"

Doug looked between the huntress and his victim in confusion before running to the gates in fear, not wanting to incur the wrath of someone who slayed Grimm for a living. Jaune wiped his eyes idly, feeling a small amount of joy warm up his spirit at the sight of his bully fleeing before he looked up to the figure besides him. It turned its cloaked head and looked own at him revealing a pair of kind silver eyes and a small, motherly smile.

* * *

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?!" cried out Jaune in frustration, his hands gripping the letter from Beacon tightly.

"Sooo, do you have any more packages you're waiting for?" said the pretty girl behind the counter as she twirled a long strand of grey hair between her fingers while idly chewing on a piece of bubble gum.

The Arc looked up sharply, remembering that he was in a room full of people waiting for their mail, not in the privacy of his own crappy little home. The mailwoman behind the counter stared at him boredly, seemingly unconcerned by his crazed outburst but, as he turned around, he noticed multiple people in the queue behind him tapping their feet impatiently or checking their watches. Those were the type of passive-aggressive manners that Aballo instilled in its citizens.

"Sorry..." he muttered, stepping away from the counter and looking down at his feet so he wouldn't see the annoyed gazes that surrounded him.

"Have a nice day..." the mailwoman called out lazily, "Next!"

The seventeen year old pushed open the door to Aballo's post office, ignoring the blast of cold wind that assaulted him as soon as he left the building and he found himself moving on autopilot as he went over in his head the contents of the letter he had received from Beacon. In the back of his mind, he knew that attending Remnant's most prestigious Huntsman Academy was a pipe dream as he would have had to have gotten by without an aura and even without a weapon. It's not like he had the education required to attend such a famous institution; despite how Aballo prided itself on its education system, it provided no huntsman courses, instead relying on outside contractors to take care of any bandit or Grimm problems that would pop up occasionally. That's how he ended up in King Oran's birthplace, his parents were a pair of wandering huntsmen that had taken a job to clear out a local Beowolf infestation and, while they did that, they left him in the hands of a local daycare while they departed for the wilderness to complete their objective. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months before another huntsman found the bodies of Juniper and Albert Arc; Jaune had just assumed that they abandoned him because he was dragging them down. To this day, he couldn't figure out which truth was better.

The faint sounds of gunfire from the town's militia echoed from the horizon as he walked down the cobbled streets to the town square. It was a normal sound if you lived on the Frontier as most towns couldn't afford to maintain a permanent military base or any high-quality defenses.

'_If you keep studying as hard as you do, you'll be at Beacon, slaying Grimm in no time!_'

His Kindergarten teacher's voice rung throughout his mind as he found himself sitting on one of the benches by the stone that supposedly held the sword of King Oran, Crocea Mors. Maybe Doug was right, after all. Maybe Mr. Loden really did say that just to make him feel better, he had to have known that an orphan from a town like Aballo would have no chance of attending a Huntsman Academy. Maybe everyone else who had encouraged him to follow his dream were joking too; his coworkers at the teamsters office and Mr. Frazier, a retired prize fighter, were probably making fun of him when they said that he would crush any competition for a spot at Beacon just by showing off his strength.

All that time spent training and studying to get into Beacon and it was all for nothing. Jaune would probably end up being one of those old men who hang out at the tavern all day, drinking their lives away and musing on the good old days when there were none. He would probably end up being stuck in Aballo for the rest of his life, wondering what the rest of the world look like. He would-

His depressing thoughts were interrupted as the town's bells tolled. Jaune checked his watch in confusion.

'_It's only 4:16, the bells aren't supposed to ring again until 6:00, what's going on? Maybe it's..._'

Jaune's head shot up as he heard screams and the pounding of feet on cobblestone, smoke was forming on the horizon near the town walls and he could see a crowd rushing down the avenue to the town square where he was located.

'_It's a fire? Why are people panicking so much?!_'

He felt a hand roughly shaking his shoulder, he turned around to see one of the town's merchants, Mr. Neve, staring down at him angrily.

"What are you doing, boy? The Grimm are coming!" he shouted in his face.

Jaune winced at the smell of his coffee breath before what the older man said hit him, "The Grimm?!"

"Yes! The Grimm! Do I need to repeat myself or are you going to go to the evacuation area?" the merchant growled in frustration.

Jaune gulped in fear as he jumped to his feet and moved to join the crowd that was moving towards the fortified hill that the town had been built around. The amount of fear he felt at that moment was probably proof that trying to become a huntsman was a mistake. He turned around to get one last look at the monsters he would've been hunting had he been accepted into Beacon when he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

A young man around his age with unruly black hair and a pair of grey dog ears poking out of the top of his head was sprawled on the ground and none of the people in the crowd were stopping to help him up as they were caught in the hysteria of a Grimm attack. Jaune's eyes drifted upwards from the pitiful sight and they widened in fear; the front line set up by the town's militia was broken, the men who seemed so brave to Jaune when he was a child were fleeing with tears streaming down their faces, Beowolves hounding their steps.

'_When all seems lost and the fear overrides your_ _thoughts..._' a woman's voice called from the deep recesses of his mind '_But your body moves to help those who need it... that's what it means to be a huntsman!_'

The letter which almost convinced him to give up on his dream fluttered down to the ground, forgotten. Jaune ignored the shouts of the people behind him as he rushed towards the stone thoughtlessly.

'_So when the time comes, don't think about what others think of you, just lift your head proudly and rush forward to fulfill your duty!_'

The memory of a pair of kind silver eyes lit a flame inside Jaune as he reached the pedestal that held up the sacred stone.

'_If you are truly worthy of becoming the ultimate protector of your people, Crocea Mors will bring you untold power._'

In hindsight, it was probably a dumb move but everyone was dumb when the time came for them to rise to the occasion. Whether that lack of intelligence led to one acting to save other people or just to save themselves was what distinguished huntsmen from regular people. Jaune gripped the plain hilt of the sword melded into the white stone and felt the stirrings of something deep within his spirit.

'_I'll save everyone!_' he called out within his mind.

Jaune gasped as white energy poured from his body, blinding those around him while also serving as a beacon of hope to those who were about to die. Crocea Mors, the sword that was once thought to be a fake, was wrenched from its resting place sending Jaune stumbling backwards from the low pedestal. Others would have seen his eyes glowing with the white energy of his soul but Jaune only saw the oncoming wave of Grimm and the people that were about to be slaughtered by them.

The stone ground of the plaza cracked beneath his feet as he crouched lowly and prepared to dash forwards into the people up the avenue. Jaune didn't know what possessed him to do such a thing, it was as if a series of instincts flooded his mind and overrode any preconceptions he had on how to use a sword.

He dashed forwards, the wind blowing his hair backwards as he appeared suddenly before Doug and the black wave of Grimm tearing the cobblestone beneath them as they surged forward in a charge fueled by wanton bloodlust. Jaune felt large amounts of heat flooding his right arm and the blade of Crocea Mors as he instinctively coiled his arm backwards like a spring as he prepared to unleash a blow on his enemies.

When people heard tales of the last big battle of the Great War and how King Oran had laid waste to countless enemies, they usually scoffed and simply explained his victory by using factors such as the weather or the enemy general's incompetence in desert combat. Jaune used to count himself among the number of skeptics who doubted the veracity of such fantastic claims.

The Arc swung Crocea Mors clumsily but the quality of his strike didn't matter as a wave of white energy sprung from the legendary blade and raced down the wide avenue, ignoring the citizens of Aballo and crashing into the black mass that chased them. The white wave bisected the monsters that had breached the walls causing them to crash forward against the ground, their momentum carrying them forwards.

An eerie silence filled the street as their bodies slowly began to disintegrate, forming a large cloud of black dust that rose upwards into the atmosphere, shrouding the town and creating a dark atmosphere despite how early it was in the afternoon. Jaune felt everyone's eyes on him as fell forward onto his face, the legendary sword clattering besides him. He yelled in pain as the backlash of the attack hit him: it felt like his right arm was practically torn out of its socket and he couldn't move either of his legs, he could only feel the massive amounts of white-hot pain emanating from them. Tears ruined his vision causing the crowd of people whom he saved to seem more like blobs on a child's water painting.

Darkness encroached on his vision as he began to lose consciousness. Several figures began to approach him from the edges of his eyesight, each shrouded in shadow and each with glowing, monochrome eyes. The sight made Jaune slightly fearful.

'_Are they coming to take my soul?_' he wondered sleepily.

He finally lost consciousness as the one with glowing green eyes reached out towards him.

* * *

Jaune groaned as sunlight assaulted his closed eyes, worsening the headache he woke up with. The sound of fingers tapping softly on glass paused for a second before resuming again.

'_This mattress is way too comfortable to be my bed..._' thought the last Arc, wondering where he was.

He opened his eyes.

'_Oh._' he thought as the memories of the previous day came to him; he was probably in the town's infirmary.

He looked up and saw that his bed had a rack surrounding it from which a white curtain was drawn back. A jug of water and two empty cups sat on the nightstand besides his bed. Propped up against it was Crocea Mors which now rested in a neat leather sheath, its hilt looked brand new compared to its previous decrepit state. Jaune's gaze drifted to the man sitting on the chair positioned by his bed.

The man wasn't necessarily tall but he was pretty big with wide shoulders and a stomach that wasn't big enough to be considered fat but still jutted out quite a bit. His grey hair was parted neatly down the middle and his big bushy moustache completely covered his mouth making him seem like an old frontiersman from a history book. Jaune wondered what he would look like with a coonskin cap perched on his head. His big, meaty fingers tapped relentlessly against the scroll's screen. The advanced piece of technology along with the strange weapon laying against the side of his chair (a double-headed axe mixed with a blunderbuss) indicated that he was probably a huntsman, or that he was at least from out of town.

"Who are you?"

* * *

**A/N: I was slightly tempted to have Jaune shout "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!" as he swung Crocea Mors for the first time but I felt like that would be too on the nose and would make this story more corny than it already is.**

**Anyways, this is pretty much just a sneak peek at some of the storylines and powers featured in this fic. I haven't really planned it out yet so I'm going to need to take a couple of days to write outlines for the next chapters before I start writing chapter 2.**

**I hope you all enjoyed it and that it caught your interest. Haven't decided on a pairing yet so feel free to suggest some.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Remember how I said that I would release a chapter of Doom Driven by Sunday? Yeah...**

**I guess I enjoy writing this story more right now since it's new, I'm sure my crappy release schedule will stabilize soon. Also, people are responding to this story a lot better than they're responding to DD lol. I guess it's because DD has more of a niche fandom than straight up RWBY, you feel me?**

**Now to reply to the reviews...**

**Lots of people wanted the slash. Not that slash, but the slash that I mentioned at the author's note of last chapter. I probably won't include the slash. Sorry.**

**Some people want Jaune to be paired with Velvet... I don't know about that.**

**TheOneYouDontSee1: Hell yeah dude**

**Alvelvnor: I don't really do multi unless I have a really good in-story reason why. And I don't have one for this story. I hate harems btw so none of that either.**

**priceless22: I'm an Ozpin truther. I feel like he gets the short end of the stick in this community or at least in some prominent stories in the community. Looking at you Coeur...**

**Regulus Arms: Maybe**

**Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. I don't own RWBY... or do I? I don't. But maybe I do... Nope.**

**Chapter 2: **Don't You Forget About Me

* * *

"Who are you?" Jaune rasped out before succumbing to a coughing fit, his dry throat straining from the words.

The sound evidently startled the large man as he practically jumped out of his seat in response to the disgusting sound, his eyes widened but never opened from their permanent, pronounced squint. The older man hastily poured the water from the jug into one of the two glasses on the nightstand before offering it to Jaune wordlessly before smoothing out his double-breasted coat and sitting back down on the chair causing the wooden object to let out a groan of pain at the man's weight.

"Thanks." said Jaune in relief after gulping down the contents of the glass, "Who are you?"

"Peter Port." said Peter Port, his loud voice resounding throughout the room causing Jaune to wince, "It's a pleasure to meet you, my boy."

"Same..." said the teenager quietly before hestitantly continuing, "But, like, who _specifically _are you? Why were you just sitting there watching me sleep?"

"Well, I was the huntsman who was sent to aid the citizens of Aballo in their plight against the Grimm menace. Perhaps you've heard of my exploits in the past?" he said with a proud grin that was concealed by his bushy moustache, ignoring Jaune's question.

"They only sent one huntsman? To deal with all those Grimm? Come to think of it, you do kind of look familiar..." mused the younger man, cupping his chin in thought.

"My boy, that paltry pack of Grimm would not stand a chance against a huntsman of my calibre." he proclaimed proudly, making Jaune feel slightly inadequate. After all, it had taken everything he had just to stop that one pack of Beowolves. "As for my looking familiar, I was also sent because I had visited Aballo in the past on some other business. It was about ten or twelve years ago, the headmaster had called me into his office to send me on a mission to search for a colleague of ours. While the others had been sent off in pairs, he knew of my skill and prowess in battle and naturally sent me by myself-"

"Wait- ten or twelve years ago... That was around the time that huntress showed up... Does that mean you were looking for her? Did you ever find her? She's what inspired to me to be a huntsman. Or- try to to be a huntsman." asked Jaune curiously only to wince at the expression on the huntsman's face.

His moustache drooped, covering what no doubt would have been a frown as Port looked to the floor with sadness, "Unfortunately, despite all of the efforts of my comrades and I, we were unable to find Ms. Rose. Her trail stopped at the wilds around Aballo and your fellow townspeople were the last to have ever seen her. We had to hold a funeral for her without a body. A shame, that, she was one of the brightest members of our community."

Jaune gasped at that, quickly turning his head away from the sad, drooping form of the elder huntsman. He glared down at his sheets as he fought back the stinging tears in his eyes. In his dreams he always imagined encountering her again when he made it to Beacon, he saw in his mind the bright smile she had when she offered the young orphan words of encouragement and how it would've reappeared once again when she saw that those trivial throw-away lines would have actually amounted to something. Jaune's hands balled up into fists.

"Unfortunately, that's the fate you will likely meet if you continue down the path of becoming a huntsman. It's a nightmare we must content ourselves with every night despite the fact that, when we fall asleep, it will greet us harshly and without mercy. Jaune Arc, that's the reality of becoming a hero and it's one you must accept." the normally bombastic man stated solemnly, much to the confusion of the Arc.

"Well, I don't really have to worry about that anymore. I've trained and studied for years to attend Beacon but I guess it was all for nothing- they rejected me." he said emotionlessly, turning to stare out the window that faced a small market square where people went on with their lives despite having almost died a short while ago. That was life on the Frontier, he supposed, you might almost be eaten by a Grimm one day but you still need to make a living.

'_How long was I out?_' thought Jaune suddenly.

"My boy, how could we reject someone if they did what it truly means to be a huntsman? How could we reject someone if they put selflessly put their lives on the line for those who couldn't defend themselves?" Port asked rhetorically.

"What?" asked Jaune intelligently, "What?"

"Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Peter Port and I am a professor at the esteemed Beacon Academy and the chair of its Grimm Studies department. I am offering you, Jaune Arc, a spot at Beacon Academy. Will you join us in our fight against the ever-encroaching darkness that comes from both man and beast?" said the man rising from his chair and extending his hand towards Jaune. The pose reminded him of the shadowy figure he saw before he passed out.

"What?" Jaune repeated.

Port retracted hand quickly, opting to scratch the back of his head instead, "That is after I call Ozpin really quickly. Though I suppose that I'll have to do that after we get into Vale's airspace, Aballo's communications tower was damaged during the attack after all. _I'll also have to endure Glynda skinning me alive..._"

"My boy, are you alright?" said Port, looking at Beacon student with concern.

Jaune's eyes widened as he realized that he was crying, he frantically wiped at his eyes in order to save some sort of face but gave up and just accepted the moment and the emotions that came with it. He turned and offered the Beacon professor a watery smile, his red eyes bright with happiness and moisture.

"It's alright, I'm just so damn happy. I've wanted to be a huntsman ever since I could think. Thank you- thank you so much." he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"It is as I said, how can we as an institution deny someone a fulfilled their duty so splendidly? However, I would advise you to control you tears in the future, you wouldn't want to face the people you save with a face like that, would you?" the professor asked with a jaunty grin.

Jaune took a deep breath and dragged both of his hands down his face before offering Port a weak smile.

"That's the spirit." said the huntsman, offering the young man a thumbs up.

"So what's the plan?" asked Jaune awkwardly, wiggling his feet beneath the white covers.

"It's been two days since the Grimm attack so you're body should've healed by now considering the fact that you've recently unlocked your aura." said Port thoughtfully, sitting back down on the chair, taking special care not to damage the furniture.

"Two days..." muttered Jaune in disbelief before shaking his head rapidly and looking to the professor, "What does me unlocking my aura have to do with anything?"

"Times of great stress are when your soul reacts the most strongly to outside threats and the fact that your aura was unlocked in such a traumatic environment means that it would be overactive in its efforts to heal and strengthen your body. Normally two broken legs and your arm being ripped out of its socket-" Jaune's face turned green at that "-would take some time to heal but the circumstances in which your aura was unlocked made it work unnaturally fast."

"That makes sense... I think." said the Arc doubtfully, not sure if what Port said was true or not.

"The soul works in mysterious ways, my boy, and, truth be told, I'm not much of an expert on aura. That's more Ozpin's field of study." admitted Port freely before moving on, "As for the plan? I'll be leaving for Vale by the end of the day so that gives you quite some time to get your affairs in order and say your goodbyes."

"I shouldn't take too long, I don't really have any goodbyes to give out." said Jaune while awkwardly rubbing the back of his head stiffly with his previously injured arm.

Port looked sad for a moment before he spoke up, "My boy, by going to Beacon, you will most likely be leaving this town behind you for a long time as you focus on your studies and working together with your team. It would be a shame if you attended such a fine institution weighed down by any past regrets. Go and take as much time as you need to ensure that any remaining guilt or sorrow is laid to rest. I'll be doing a little bit of shopping myself but you'll be able to find me at the airpad whenever you're ready to depart."

With that, Port left the room, leaving behind a pensive Jaune and a chair that would be scarred for life.

* * *

Jaune ignored the looks he received as he stood in line at Aballo's bank, he almost wished that he could go back to the days where barely anyone cared that he existed as the looks of awe he received now that he was the town's hero felt disingenuous. On the other hand, it was unfair of him to resent people for treating him differently for saving their lives. He mentally shrugged, emotions were hard.

"Next!" called out the bank teller.

Jaune briefly stared in awe at the man's finely styled handlebar moustache before shaking his head clear of those thoughts and walking forward. Thankfully the man either didn't recognize him or was just so professional that he just made the effort to seem like he didn't dive a damn who Jaune was.

"Name?" asked the man (Lorry going by his name tag) in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

The teenager looked around for a moment before leaning forward and saying quietly: "Jaune Arc."

"Let me see some ID, young man." said Lorry, gesturing to the hole in the glass window.

Jaune dutifully slid his scroll into the hole.

"Right, your PIN number?" said the teller, sliding the ID back across the hole in the glass divider.

"1412."

"Right, right. How can I help you, Mr. Arc?" asked the man while idly typing on his computer, probably pulling up the Beacon student's bank account.

"Uh, I'd like to make a withdrawal. I'll be moving to Vale to go to school and I won't be able to access this bank anymore." said Jaune, tapping the counter impatiently, growing tired of the feeling of a crowd of people staring at him.

Lorry turned towards the computer monitor and his eyes widened comically, "How much were you planning on withdrawing, young man?"

"All of it."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Why are you asking?"

"It's better if I just tell you." he beckoned Jaune to lean forward before whispering something in his ear.

"WHAT?!" Jaune shouted retracting his head quickly from the glass divider before leaning forward once more and repeating quietly: "_What?_"

"It's as I said, young man, that's the total amount in your account, I thought I'd let you know before you attempt to withdraw that much."

"But-but-but how'd I even get hat much? I've been saving up for a while now but I don't remember ever working enough for that type of money." said Jaune nervously.

The teller turned to the monitor once more, "It appears that the town's council recently transferred a sizeable amount of money to your account yesterday, probably for your exploits in the Grimm attack."

"Ah, right. That."

"Yes, that."

Jaune rubbed his forehead, "Jeez, they couldn't have sent me an invoice? I almost got a heart attack."

Lorry shrugged, "I just work the desk, young man, I don't make the rules. Do you still intend to withdraw 'all of it'?"

"Yeah, that's the plan."

The bank teller sighed before holding up a hand, "This will take a few moments, Mr. Arc."

Jaune felt bad for being an inconvenience for the bank teller and the people in line, he expected his trip to the bank to be a quick in-and-out process but it was turning out to be a drag for himself and everyone around him. He turned to apologize to the people doing business at the bank but he was greeted by a couple of patient smiles and a whole bunch of people minding their own business.

'_The perks of being a hero, I guess._' thought Jaune, still feeling guilty for taking up everyone's time. He drummed his fingers along the counter as he felt perspiration building on his forehead. It felt like he was being held under a magnifying glass. The Arc distracted himself by imagining what form the cash would come in: would it come in a canvas bag with the lien symbol on the side or would it come in a briefcase like in a crime movie?

Unfortunately those myths came from when the Kingdoms of Remnant still used either gold coins or plastic currency; since the Vytal Pact, the Kingdoms worked in unison to create a currency that could be used across a common market. This resulted in the Lien, a plastic currency that could easily be used digitally to fit a new modern society. While the move was generally celebrated, it did somewhat harm smaller towns such as Aballo who had to build new digital infrastructure to support the new currency.

Needless to say, Jaune was slightly disappointed when Lorry emerged from the bowels of the bank with a vacuum-sealed bag containing the plastic currency. The older man took a seat behind the counter before sliding the container across the glass divider with a patient, professional smile.

"Will that be all today, Mr. Arc?" he asked pleasantly, as if he hadn't acted like that task was a huge chore just a couple of minutes prior.

"Uh, no that's it. Thanks for all the help and have a nice day." Jaune replied politely.

"You too, young man. And on behalf of all the citizens of Aballo, allow me to say: Slay some Grimm for us, would you?" Lorry said, offering an encouraging grin.

Jaune stood their frozen for a couple seconds before a smile slowly bloomed on his face, "Thanks!"

Though he felt less heroic for think so, he had to admit that being paid and being recognized for his deeds felt good.

* * *

For once, Jaune was thankful for not having that many things in his possession as he got to packing all his clothes and books in a duffel bag and backpack. He always felt sort of bad for himself whenever he remarked upon his spartan abode but he was glad that he wouldn't have to lug any decorations or picture frames all the way to Vale. His apartment was very small and was located on the outskirts of Aballo which made it very cheap albeit very dangerous in the event of a Grimm attack. Thankfully though, his dingy apartment managed to get through the latest invasion unscathed as it wasn't located along the main avenues or near the main gate.

The apartment was a part of the public housing allotted to victims of Grimm attacks in the Aballo area; Jaune supposed that, since his parents died on a search and destroy mission, he could be counted as a victim of a Grimm attack. It was given to him as soon as he was old enough to work and leave the orphanage, and was cheaper than other properties in town even if Jaune was just a tiny bit upset when he learned that he would have to take on a job as young as fourteen.

The apartment wasn't much in terms of size but it did come with furniture and silverware and everything a teenager needed to survive on his own. What Jaune appreciated most about it was that it gave him a sense of freedom and privacy he hadn't felt within the confining walls of Aballo's orphanage. It gave him a safe space where he was able to pursue his doomed dream of becoming a huntsman without being mocked by his peers.

As he shoved his Pumpkin Pete hoodie into the last inch of space available in his duffel bag he took a moment to take in the now empty environment of what had been his home for quite some time. The sheets and covers were all cleaned and neatly folded, all the furniture was put in their respective places, the floor was scrubbed clean and it looked like no body had ever lived there save for some scratches on the wooden floor.

He sighed and slung his bags over his shoulder before turning off the lights and shutting the door to his home behind him. It would never be his home ever again.

* * *

Some found it impractical to house a graveyard within the walls of a Frontier town but to the guardsmen of Aballo it only put into perspective what exactly they were defending whenever they marched along the walls or patrolled the outer defenses. They were defending the hopes and dreams of their ancestors, they were defending the home of Vale's last king, they were defending the hopes and dreams of any of their neighbors who had passed on. Aballo was more than its cobbled roads and houses with tiled roofs, it was the embodiment of those bold enough to live where Vale's influence was limited.

Still, seeing all the fresh graves being dug was depressing to Jaune; those were people who he grew up around, those were people he failed to save...

A cool breeze of mountain air distracted him from those thoughts as he shivered and retreated deeper into his hoodie and jacket combo. Though it looked like the people preparing for the oncoming funerals looked like they recognized him, they let him be, remembering where they were at the moment. Jaune silently sent his thanks towards them as he continued down the winding lanes of Aballo's only cemetery. There was someone he hadn't talked to in a long time and, when he considered Port's words, he realized it would leave a bad taste in his mouth if he went to Beacon without saying his goodbyes to the man.

He stopped in his tracks in front one of the cemetery's headstones. Juniper and Albert Arc, May They Protect Us Even In Death, it read. It was a nice gesture from the town, they had died protecting it from the Grimm, after all.

'_Though maybe they should be resting instead of being on the job for eternity_...' thought Jaune.

The last Arc wondered if he should say anything. They were his parents. Yet... he couldn't find any words. And he couldn't find it within himself to feel sad at the notion that he had nothing to say to the people that birthed him.

'_Maybe I should feel guilty._' he thought numbly before shaking his head. It's not like they raised him. If they came back to the life at that moment they would probably just end up being strangers...

Jaune left the gravestone feeling slightly conflicted, huddling within his clothes as well as his thoughts.

'_I don't know what to feel._'

Jaune moved on from the piece of stone that made him feel sch conflicted emotions, deciding to bury them deep within his soul where hopefully, they would never be brought up again. It was for the best, it's not like could receive and sort of resolution when it came to his dead parents.

Without realiing it Jaune found himself arriving at his destination, Mr. Loden's headstone stood near the end of the lane, accompanied by a pair of wilting mountain flower bouquets. It was a nice gesture, and Jaune thought that maybe he should've brought some flowers as well but, he was short on time and the florist was on the other side of Aballo. He pushed awy the guilt and instead decided to get on with his business.

"Hey, Mr. Loden..." Jaune began awkwardly while sliding his bags off his body and onto the ground.

"Man, I don't really know what to say. I guess I came to say that I either want to thank you or say that I'll prove you wrong. It's kind of crappy of me but I resented you for the longest time." he said with a hollow chuckle, "Ever since I had that little spat with Doug after that class one day the words of encouragement that you offered me lost their value. I know it's dumb but, ever since then I just resented you for lying to me when I was in such a vulnerable state. I don't even really know what I'm saying right now..."

"I still don't know if you meant what you said, you know? I guess Doug had more of an effect on me than I thought..." Jaune admitted with a sigh, "But your words still drove me to pursue my little pipe dream even when everyone else gave up on me or just brushed me off. Every time I thought about giving up on a work out session or of goofing off instead of studying, I would just remember what you and Doug said to me that day, curse your names and then go back to what I was doing. I guess even fool's gold is worth something."

He felt a little bit silly talking like that as he wasn't usually that introspective or poetic. Though, he did have to admit that it felt good to air out his feelings like that.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you weren't lying then thank you for encouraging me when no one else was. But if you lied to me, well I'll just prove you wrong. Either way, I'm becoming a huntsman. And I guess that I kind of owe it to you even if I don't know if you meant what you said or not." Jaune took one look at the sun's position before sighing deeply in relief and picking up his bags, "I'll see you later."

* * *

Jaune found himself feeling somewhat melancholic as he walked up the cobbled streets of Aballo towards the town's airpad. While he could safely say that he felt a certain amount of disassociation towards the the citizens of the town who were suddenly glad to see him or were his new-old friends, the wind-chafed stone buildings would always be considered his home. A couple of days ago he would have freely admitted that he'd rather be anywhere than the confining walls of Oran's hometown but, now that he was leaving, he realized the he would miss the town more than he previously thought.

'_Of course, there are a bunch of parts I won't miss at all..._' thought Jaune with a grimace as the sound of a familiar voice calling out to him reached his ears.

"Hey Jauney-Boy, wait up!" the voice called out from a side-street he had just passed.

Jaune groaned as he realized that there was only one person who would still call him that stupid name, even if they were both seventeen. He stopped in his tracks, ignoring the curious eyes around him as he turned around to face his accoster just as he heard their pounding footsteps come to a halt behind him. The Arc turned around and found his fears and suspicions to be correct: Doug Hemlock was doubled over before him, gasping for breath after the run uphill. His black hair was a messy as ever yet Jaune could spot one major change in his childhood bully's appearance: one of his grey dog ears was gone, replaced by a bandaged stump.

Jaune couldn't help but wince in sympathy and briefly felt a small amount of guilt as he realized that he hadn't moved quick enough to save all the victims of the Grimm and allow them to escape unscathed.

"Hey Doug, it's-it's been a while..." said Jaune, mentally berating himself for stumbling over his words.

And it truly had been a while: they hadn't been in the same classes since middle school and Doug had, for the most part, matured and mellowed out so they had generally drifted apart once the bully decided that bullying the Arc wasn't worth his time.

"Yeah it has..." began Doug awkwardly, shoving his hands in pockets, "I used to always make fun of you for wanting to be a huntsman but it looks like you've proven me wrong, huh?" asked Doug rhetorically, idly kicking a small pebble.

"Um, I guess..." agreed Jaune succinctly, not quite sure how to respond to that, "I mean I still have to pass the exams and everything... How'd you even know about that?"

"Please, it's the talk of the town, you know how everyone gets when a huntsman visits on a job." said the dog faunus with a scoff.

While most small towns were gossipy simply because everyone knew each other, Aballo really got into a frenzy whenever one of the fabled protectors of legend were brought into play.

"Damn it! Don't distract me! I had a whole speech planned out and everything."

'_I don't know how to feel about that._' thought a bemused Jaune as he waited silently for his former classmate to collect himself.

"Fuck it, I'll just wing it. You're pretty lucky, you know that? I mean, you're not at the same time but you definitely are. Damn it..." Doug seemed frustrated with the fact that he couldn't verbalize his feelings, something Jaune could empathize with, "Everybody wanted to be a huntsman when were little kids, we were all raised on that King Oran bullshit. But every year, more and more of us would slip through the cracks like 'Oh my parents want me to take over the business', or 'Oh, you know what? I don't think I'm really strong enough, did you see those people at the Vytal Festival?' or my-their dreams were just flat out crushed when they found out they would be taught some bullshit extra credit class instead of a proper huntsman course."

He paused for a breath and Jaune realized that he still dind't know what the hell the guy was talking about.

"But not you... out of all of us, you probably should've been the first one to break and drop out, but you just kept on going... So maybe you're not lucky at all... Or maybe just a bit. I dunno. All I know is that, when the time came and any one of us could've shown that we were worthy of achieving our dreams, we ran like cowards and you were the only one to do something even if you were lucky as shit when that sword popped out of the stone." Doug remarked bitterly, a shameful look appearing on his face as he looked down at the ground.

"So... thanks, I guess..." that was the first time Doug had ever said anything remotely nice to Jaune he didn't know how to feel about that, "And don't waste that sword, you hear? Keep on proving me wrong!"

Jaune's brief feeling of tentative happiness were shattered as he felt a hot surge of anger course throughout his body.

'Fuck you! I don't have to prove shit to you!' Jaune would have shouted with both of his middle fingers raised in a daring salute had he been brave enough...

Instead, he let sleeping dogs lie. Jaune grit his teeth and balled up his hands into fists before spinning around and stomping up the hill towards the air pad, grumbling up a storm under his breath all throughout his small journey.

'_Really, who the hell does he think he is?_' thought Jaune, groaning in frustration as he walked towards Port's rotund burgundy form by the lone Bullhead at Aballo's airpad.

Jaune took a deep breath and a second to reorganize his thoughts before continuing to his destination, ignoring the lingering embers of anger from his previous encounter.

"Sorry!" he called out to the Beacon professor who was talking to the Bullhead's pilot, "I didn't really expect to take this long..."

Port nodded to the pilot before turning to Jaune, "It's quite alright, my boy! I was the one who encouraged you to tie up any loose ends, ater all. Besides, I just got done shopping so it's not like I can complain, now can I? Cast the first stone and all that."

"What'd you buy?" asked Jaune curiously.

Port picked up a bag, one of those fancy ones from boutiques that Jaune saw boyfriends get dragged to by their partners on a day out. The professor pulled out a snowglobe featuring Crocea Mors jutting proudly out of the stone in Aballo's main square and a nice vintage with a proud smile concealed by his moustache. Jaune thought that it made sense that someone with the name Port would be interested in wine but he assumed that he would've bought something more... huntsman-y. Yeah. Huntsman-y.

"Are you ready to leave, Mr. Arc?" asked Port, carefully placing the items back in the bag and concealing them with a glittery piece of tissue paper.

Jaune turned around to take one last look at his home and took a deep breath full of the sweet mountain air.

He turned to Port and nodded.

.

.

.

"Good, because I was going to leave anyway."

* * *

**A/N: So boom, that's Aballo wrapped up. I hope Jaune's musing on his relationship with his parents makes sense to everyone. It makes sense to me as someone who has lost a parent at a young age.**

**Anyways, I hope everyone enjoyed it. Thanks for all the support! Let me know if there's any grammatical errors, there shouldn't be but I was very tired when I read over the chapter again.**


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